


Death Be Not Proud

by charlie4short



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, F/M, Funny, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 23:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlie4short/pseuds/charlie4short
Summary: Dean disappears, but a frantic Sam arrives just in the nick of time. What took him, and why won't Dean allow his brother to save him?





	Death Be Not Proud

* * *

 

"C'mon, Dean," the tall, lanky hunter muttered to himself. "This frantic searching-while-expecting-to-find-your-brother's-corpse thing is getting a little old." Sam moved through the building with the efficiency of an elite soldier. "Been nabbed before; haven't been too late yet," he reminded himself. "Wendigo, djinn, shape shifter, freaking Bender...What's got you this time, jerk?"

Having no idea what he was facing, Sam had resisted the urge to call out for his sibling, choosing stealth over expediency.

The sound of Dean's voice raised in a hoarse shout scalded him like a branding iron. "Dean!" He careened down one hall after another, all thoughts of stealth gone, a desperate echo of his brother's name reverberating in his soul like the howl of a freight train.

There was no answering call, but Sam thought he heard the slap of bare feet on concrete.

A  _lot_ of bare feet.

He followed the sound, skidding around a corner into a corridor that ended in a single, blank door.

Sam pulled to a stop, anxiety blossoming in his chest like a living thing, stealing his breath, freezing the moment.

It didn't matter how many times Dean had been lost and then found, died and was then revived. Dozens, even  _hundreds_ of deaths at the Trickster's hands had not proven sufficient to numb Sam to the horror of that scenario. The enormity of it paralyzed him.

A soft moan reached him, and the crystallized moment shattered. An exhaled "Dean" propelled Sam through the door.

His brother lay unattended and nearly motionless on a narrow cot. He'd been stripped bare, arms and legs bound firmly to the frame, eyes covered with a thick blindfold.

Sam scanned the supine hunter with a practiced eye, triaging. Flushed skin; rapid, shallow respirations; pulse strong but too rapid, visible in his brother's neck even from the doorway.

As he watched, Dean tensed against the ropes, abdominal muscles contracting, breath stuttering as a tremor worked its way through his body.  He collapsed back onto the cot with a groan and resumed his pant, though it had slowed somewhat.

_Pain? Blood loss? Hyperthermia? Poison?_

In two long strides Sam had traversed the room and dropped to his knees. With deft fingers he worked the encumbering straps free, palpating Dean's body to try to locate injuries even as he worked to free his brother.

_No wounds to the limbs or front of the torso. Must be something on the back...or poison. Witchcraft, maybe?_

Another full-body shudder racked his brother's frame.  It ended with Dean limp, now barely breathing, the pulse in his neck less obvious, and Sam began to panic. _Are those seizures?_

Lifting the unconscious hunter into a sitting position began to feel like man-handling two hundred pounds of raw bread dough. "Dean! C'mon, man! Help me out here! I can't lift your heavy ass all by myself!"

"Mmmm...Sammy..."  His voice was so raw, Sam had to wonder how long his brother had been screaming.

"I'm here, Dean, I've got you. We're gonna get you out of here, okay? You'll be alright, but you gotta help."

"Nooo..." Despite the improvement in awareness, Dean's torso remained a dead weight.

A hot and sweat-slicked dead weight.

"'No' what? Does it hurt to sit up?"

"No...don' wanna."  Dean's hand moved to cover his groin, and he convulsed weakly, squeezing the flesh that filled his palm.

"'Don't wanna' what? And where are you hurt? I'm not finding anything."

Dean's lazy smile birthed a faint worm of skepticism in Sam's laconic subconscious.

"Nothin' hurts, Sammy." A small tremor seemed to belie his words. It released him, and he licked his lips. "Doesn' hurt at all."

"Dean..."  _Nude, bound and blindfolded, skin flushed, heart rate and blood pressure decreasing to barely detectable levels, and a shit-eating grin..._

Sam's eyes narrowed.

"Save yourself, Sammy," yet Dean continued to lounge in boneless contentment against his brother's solid chest. "I'll distract them while you get away."

"Dean...What took you?"

"Succubi, Sammy. A whole freakin'  _harem_  of succubi."

With the last of his strength Dean pulled himself from his brother's grasp to flop back onto the cot. "Not leaving, Sam. Gonna be the. Best. Death.  _Ever_."


End file.
